


Revenge

by N1ghtWr1ter, RaeDMagdon



Series: Command Me to Be Well [5]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bondage, Consensual Kink, Cowgirl Position, D/s, Established Relationship, F/F, G!p Lexa, Lexa Lives, Lexa's Dick, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Riding, Switching, Teasing, Top!Clarke, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-21 09:41:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10682697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/N1ghtWr1ter/pseuds/N1ghtWr1ter, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaeDMagdon/pseuds/RaeDMagdon
Summary: Though Clarke had thoroughly enjoyed the torturous pleasure of Lexa's denial over the past two weeks, it stoked within her a burning desire to return the favor—to exact a playful sort of revenge. But to do that, she needs to find out just what Lexa’s hidden desire is.





	Revenge

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all were thirsty for a sequel to Reward that features Clarke's revenge, and luckily for you one of Rae's fans made it happen! And just in case you didn't think we loved you, we've got one more in this series coming up soon! As always, let us know what you think in the comments and on tumblr @n1ghtwr1ter and @raedmagdon.

Clarke clenches her fists in the heavy furs beneath her, squeezing her eyes shut as she tries to lose herself in Lexa's rhythmic thrusts.

Normally, she has no trouble focusing on her lover. In fact, she focuses on Lexa even when she isn't supposed to—during gatherings of the Ambassadors, during ceremonies, even during training. And when Lexa is on top of her, rolling their hips together as she is at this very moment, pumping in and out of her, blunt nails raking up and down her thighs? It's all Clarke can do to cling to her sanity.

But tonight is different. Tonight her mind is racing, and even the hot, harsh bursts of Lexa's breath against her neck can't slow it down.

Since coming to Earth and living among the Grounders, Clarke has become an expert liar, a master manipulator, and an increasingly effective politician, but none of these skills appear to be working in her current quest.

Two weeks. Two weeks Lexa had spent doing exactly this—fucking her, teasing her, claiming her utterly only to deny her at the last possible moment. Just the memory is enough to make Clarke's inner walls clench. A low groan from Lexa is her reward, and once more, she tries to focus on what they're doing.

It's useless. As precious as these moments are, she has too much on her mind.

Though Clarke had thoroughly enjoyed the torturous pleasure of Lexa's denial over the past two weeks, it stoked within her a burning desire to return the favor—to exact a playful sort of revenge. But to do that, she needs to find out just what Lexa’s hidden desire is, and that has proven surprisingly difficult.

She knows what Lexa's body wants. She knows that Lexa loves feeling the tight wrap of her legs. She knows Lexa's neck is sensitive. Clarke kisses the tender spot beneath her ear simply because she can, and Lexa stiffens and shudders, her pace stuttering for just a moment. Clarke knows that Lexa loves hearing her name in a hoarse whisper at the height of desperation—or her title, or both...

But though Clarke knows Lexa's preferences, she can't seem to ferret out her weaknesses.

Lexa's desires have always been far more straightforward than her own. In the beginning, it hadn't been easy for Clarke to open up about the things she needs that are somewhat off the beaten path. To her relief, Lexa hadn’t judged her. She had been eager to accommodate, to bring pleasure in whatever ways Clarke desired—and in time, she had even begun to come up with a few wicked ideas all on her own.

But Clarke knows that she’s the driving force behind their more extreme sexual exploits. It makes her feel guilty sometimes, and she worries that she’s using Lexa—but the Commander always denies it. Clarke’s pleasure is her pleasure, she’s protested time and time again, and she’s happy to do whatever brings Clarke bliss. Which takes her back to the original problem.

She’s tried asking leading questions after sex, murmuring drowsily as their bodies cool, “What’s something you really, really love about our sex life?” But the question was only met with a snore, and she’d fallen asleep herself soon afterward.

She’s also tried pointed inquiries just before Lexa’s about to come, hoping her lover’s desperation might provoke an honest answer. “What’s something you’ve always wanted to try with me?” she’d asked while staring down at Lexa as she rode her, her lover’s length throbbing furiously inside her. But then Lexa’s fingers had found her clit, and Clarke’s words had vanished into gasps. She’d been thrown into a sudden orgasm, her query erased by the waves of pleasure crashing over her, heightened and drawn out by the warmth she’d felt spilling from Lexa moments later.

Clarke isn’t sure whether Lexa is doing this on purpose to evade the question, or whether she’s just picking the wrong moments to ask, but it’s driving her utterly crazy. There’s no way Lexa doesn’t have a weakness, some hidden kink that she can draw out and exploit—for Lexa’s pleasure, of course, and her own.

_ There has to be  _ something, she thinks as Lexa's sharpening movements draw her back to reality. Lexa is staring down at her face, searching her eyes for some sort of connection.

_ "Klark..." _

Clarke suddenly realizes just how desperate, and how selfless, her lover is. Even though Clarke can feel her twitching, balancing on the precipice, Lexa is waiting for her.

It's no surprise. Lexa rarely allows herself to come first.

Once more, Clarke tries to forget her plan. She takes Lexa's mouth in a kiss, and it's a gateway to the present. Heat rushes through her entire body as Lexa's tongue teases the seam of her lips, and her inner walls begin to quiver. Numbness and distraction dissolve into pure feeling, and she digs her fingers into the shifting muscles of Lexa's shoulders.

She wants to come—wants to come for Lexa, and make Lexa come as well.

It's what Lexa wants too. A moment later, she seeks out the slippery point of Clarke's clit with her fingers. Their bodies arch as one. With a deep sigh, Clarke finally allows herself release. It's a small orgasm, a subtle shiver, but it's enough to help Lexa let go. Her hips snap, and Clarke's pleasure spikes as she feels the familiar rush of heat that tells her Lexa is coming.

An idea dawns out of nowhere, a brilliant flash of inspiration. She smiles as her own orgasm dissolves into aftershocks and Lexa continues spilling inside of her.  _ Everybody’s got a chink in their armor. And I think I've just found hers. _

After several timeless seconds, Clarke feels Lexa’s drowsy weight settle on top of her. She lets herself sink into contentedness as well, enjoying the way Lexa slowly softens inside of her, tracing the familiar lines of tattoos and scars along her lover's back with tender care.

There is one thing Lexa craves, one thing Lexa needs above all else—and tomorrow, Lexa is going to learn how it feels to be denied.

“Lexa,” she says, struggling to hold back a truly wicked smirk. Lexa’s only response is a grunt. Clarke grins affectionately at her drowsy lover and runs a hand through her hair just to hear her sigh in contentment. She knows that Lexa’s probably going to fall asleep at any moment—she often does after she comes—but with the amount of times Lexa’s brought her release this evening, she’s earned it.

Still, this plan of hers is a fairly sharp departure from anything they’ve done before, and she wants Lexa’s clear consent before she puts it into motion. “Lexa,” she repeats, gently raking her nails down her lover’s back to rouse her. There’s a sleepy grumble, and then Lexa raises her head just enough to look at her with one grumpy green eye.

“Yes, Clarke?”

For a moment, she considers calling it off, waiting another day, letting Lexa rest. But the idea has taken root in her mind so strongly that she’s practically vibrating with its wicked energy, and she can’t help herself. “There’s something new I want to try.” 

Lexa gives her a pleading look, one that sends shivers down Clarke’s spine. Tomorrow, she’ll be seeing much, much more of that. 

“Tonight,  _ ai hodnes?  _ It’s past one o’clock and there’s a council meeting in the morning…”

“Not tonight,” Clarke hastens to reassure her, and the tense lines of Lexa’s body go slack instantly. “But tomorrow night, we don't have anything planned, do we?” 

Lexa shakes her head. “No,  _ niladon,”  _ she says, smiling gently. “Tomorrow night, I’m all yours, I promise.”

Clarke presses a kiss to her lips at that answer, thinking to herself,  _ You have no idea just how right you are.  _

***

When Lexa had agreed to consider Clarke’s request, she hadn't been expecting...this.

She’s bound by her wrists and ankles to their bed, her legs stretched wide and her entire body bare to Clarke’s hooded gaze. The obvious desire in her lover’s eyes is familiar, and never fails to make an answering flame light up in the pit of Lexa’s stomach, but that’s about the only familiar thing about the position she’s in.

For one thing, Clarke is usually the one tied to the bed—and on that note, when had she gotten so good with ropes? Lexa is usually the one circling above her, testing knots and gazing possessively at her captive prize. While there are definitely times in which the power dynamic between them is muted or absent, and even times when Clarke has assumed more direct control, it has never been quite so pronounced. 

While it’s not the way they usually make love, Lexa can’t deny she’s curious about how it will feel to be the one in this position. She takes stock of herself, and finds arousal stirring in her stomach as usual—but it’s tinged with nervousness, even embarrassment. She feels incredibly exposed laid out like this, captive to Clarke’s whims and her gaze, and it’s not something she’s totally comfortable with.

Clarke seems to glean some of this, because the look on her face softens momentarily into one of concern. “Are you okay? Does anything hurt?” 

Lexa swiftly shakes her head. “No,  _ ai niron,”  _ she says, offering Clarke her most reassuring smile. “Just wondering what you’re planning to do with me is all.”

“Okay,” Clarke says, looking a bit relieved, “but remember, if anything feels wrong, you can always say your word and I’ll stop right away.”

“I trust you,” Lexa says, and it’s true. More than anything else, she trusts Clarke. 

“Good,” Clarke says. “Then let’s begin.” 

A lascivious grin spreads across her face, and Lexa feels an answering spike of mingled desire and anticipation at the familiar words.  _ Is this how she feels when I say that?  _

“Two weeks ago,” Clarke says, slowly beginning to run her hands along Lexa’s body, “you found out one of my deepest, darkest secrets. One of my kinks, one of my weaknesses. And you used it to torture me.” 

The bottom drops out of Lexa’s stomach, but as she stares into Clarke’s darkened eyes, all she sees is desire and love.  _ It’s part of the scene,  _ she realizes, willing herself to relax. As if soothed by the visible release of tension in her muscles, Clarke’s hands resume their wandering trails along Lexa’s skin. She aches to arch up into them, but as tightly bound as she is, she knows she won’t get far.

“It took me a while to figure out  _ your  _ deep, dark secret, but I did,” Clarke says, smiling smugly at the gasp Lexa makes when she tweaks each of her stiff, straining nipples. “And tonight, I'm going to use it to pay you back. I'm going to get my revenge.” 

Clarke takes a nipple into her mouth and Lexa can’t hold back a groan. Her lover lashes the aching tip with her tongue for a too-brief moment before letting go. “And what is that secret?” Lexa pants as Clarke’s hands begin to wander lower. 

Her lover grins. “It’s that more than anything, you love to make me come.”

Lexa has no response. Clarke has spoken the truth. The moments she holds dearest are the ones where Clarke shivers apart in her arms. She cannot help it. Perhaps it’s because she knows the trust inherent in Clarke allowing herself to be so vulnerable before her. There was a time—not so long ago, although it feels like another lifetime—when Clarke hated her and wanted her dead.

To go from such loathing and mistrust (earned, Lexa had to admit) to utter love and devotion is one of the greatest miracles Lexa has ever witnessed. And she feels lucky to witness it every time Clarke comes for her.

Tonight, though, she doubts she will be so lucky.

“Shouldn’t I love to make you come?” Lexa asks, swallowing slightly. She can’t tell whether her throat is dry or wet. It feels like both at once.

“You should,” Clarke says, her smirk broadening. She flicks the tip of Lexa’s nipple with her tongue again, but that isn’t what has Lexa gasping—it’s the feeling of Clarke’s wetness brushing against one of her thighs. “But tonight, you don’t get to.”

Lexa’s first instinct is to test her bonds. Normally, when Clarke denies her, she can take control back by flipping her lover over. Not so this time. Her wrists are tightly bound. She can’t even wrap her legs around Clarke’s waist. She is completely helpless—which is, of course, exactly what Clarke has intended.

“What are you going to do to me instead?”

Clarke bites her lower lip, a gesture that is usually a sign of weakening restraint, but in this circumstance is merely a tease. “Be patient and you’ll find out.”

Lexa knows a thing or two about patience. She forces her muscles to relax, settling in for the duration. There is nothing to do but suffer, and enjoy, whatever torture Clarke has planned.

Apparently, that torture involves a few more rocking motions of Clarke’s hips. Lexa is surprised by how much the wet heat affects her. The top of her thigh isn’t particularly sensitive, but the proof of Clarke’s desire is enough to send a tingling rush from her head to her toes.

It’s a rush that ends by shooting up along her shaft. She had been half-hard before, but with Clarke’s warm body on top of hers and Clarke’s full lips planting kisses in strategic places along her chest and stomach, she rises rapidly to attention. Her arousal quickly overcomes her nervousness.

Of course, Clarke can feel her. She takes Lexa in her hand, squeezing lightly, but not quite stroking. Lexa tries to raise her hips in encouragement, but her bonds tug at her limbs, an abrupt reminder of her limited range of movement. Her brow creases in frustration. Perhaps this is going to be more difficult than she had imagined. She isn’t sure how Clarke does it night after night.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” Clarke says, shifting further down on the bed so she can have a better view. Her face remains a short distance away, too far to reach with her mouth, but close enough to tease Lexa with the idea that she might.

“I am tied to our bed, Clarke. I’m not sure how you expect me to get comfortable.”

Clarke gives her a mischievous look in response, and while Lexa watches, she leans in, tongue flicking over her tip.

The soft heat sends Lexa’s heart shooting up into her throat even as all the blood in her body floods down between her legs. The warmth that had pooled there before is now a heavy throb. She strains in Clarke’s loose grip even as her lover’s tongue retreats.

She groans. It was merely another tease.

Clarke seems pleased with her noises, however. She doesn’t bring her mouth back, but she does give Lexa’s length a slow, luxurious pump. “You know,” she says, blue eyes fixed on her fist, “I think I’m starting to see the appeal. It’s kind of a rush, isn’t it? Holding someone in your hand… knowing you can break them if you go just a little faster…”

Her fist speeds up. Lexa’s abdominals tense.

“I can feel your heartbeat in my hand,” Clarke says, blue eyes flicking up through her lashes to meet Lexa’s gaze. “It’s throbbing for me.”

Lexa is sure she must be blushing. Her face is blazing and a fine layer of sweat has sprouted over her skin. All she can manage is a choking noise that isn’t even a proper moan.  _ Is this how Clarke feels when I speak to her this way? Does she feel this same churning in her stomach, like she wants to squirm out of her skin because it burns too much? _

“You really want to come, don’t you?” Clarke coos, continuing to lavish slow, luxurious strokes on her. 

Lexa’s tongue grows thick in her mouth. All she can do is look up at Clarke pleadingly. She’s not sure what the right answer is, or even if there is a right answer. Of course she wants to come—Clarke’s hand might not be quite as wonderful as her wicked mouth or her slick, tight  _ gapa, _ but it still feels amazing, and Clarke has her embarrassingly close. But she remembers what her  _ niron  _ said when they first began— _ I’m going to get my revenge— _ and she suspects if she confesses the obvious, she will only be met with a teasing laugh. 

_ And besides...she’s certainly made me work for her submission before. Perhaps it’s time I return the favor. _

Lexa shuts her gasping mouth and firms her jaw, gazing up at Clarke with a defiant glint in her eye.

Clarke arches an eyebrow. “So that’s how you’re gonna play this, huh?” she says, her voice an odd mixture of frustration and humor. “Well, that’s fine—you just don’t get to come.” She releases Lexa suddenly, leaving her weeping fluid and straining into the air, struggling to choke back a whine. Clarke takes in the picture with a satisfied air before sticking her fingers in her mouth, licking away Lexa’s juices. Once she’s long past done, she slides them out with a slick pop that reminds Lexa far too strongly of the sound she makes sliding out of Clarke’s mouth. 

“But  _ I  _ do.”

Clarke grabs one of the copious pillows tossed haphazardly around the bed and slots it under her back, before shifting backward on the bed and spreading her legs. In her tied-up position, Lexa has an excellent view of the mouthwatering sight in between them: Clarke’s lips, swollen and pouting open; her clit, standing out stiffly from its hood; her entrance, pulsing ever so gently as though to take her in…

“Is this what you want?” Clarke asks, sliding her hand with exaggerated slowness down her belly and in between her thighs. Her fingers began circling her clit in a mimic—conscious or unconscious, but knowing Clarke, probably the former—of the way Lexa touches her.

Lexa’s head spins. She is aching with the need to bury herself somewhere warm and wet. When Clarke’s ministrations cause a fresh wave of slick to pour out of her opening, that ache doubles.

Clarke’s other hand slides in the opposite direction, rounding the curve of one full breast and squeezing before plucking at the pink point of her nipple. “You wish this was your hand on me, or your tongue,” she says, her voice growing breathy. As arousing as the vision is, it’s Clarke’s voice that nearly breaks Lexa. She knows that it’s the way Clarke sounds when her voice is about to crack, her words of desire or defiance being washed away by a chorus of gasps and moans. 

Only this time, she isn’t the one who has earned those heavenly sounds. Clarke is touching herself. _Clarke_ _is_ _touching herself_ , and Lexa can do nothing but watch from her prone position. It takes an effort of will to stifle her own needy noises as she listens to her lover’s.

Clarke notices. She seems amused by this reversal of roles, but also deeply aroused. Two of her fingers move down to her entrance, pushing in with hardly any effort at all. Lexa’s own fingers clench into fists as she drips over herself. She knows all too well how Clarke feels inside—how soft she is, how warm…

“You’ll get your chance,” Clarke says, locking her eyes with Lexa’s. She curls her fingers forward, the back of her hand flexing, and Lexa knows what she’s doing. Clarke is seeking out the swollen spot inside herself that always pushes her toward her strongest peaks.

_ You’ll get your chance. _ Lexa isn’t sure what that means. She hopes it’s a sign that Clarke will eventually untie her, but she knows if she asks, it will only delay her freedom. Waiting in hope is the best option. She needs to have patience.

But it is so,  _ so _ hard to be patient while she watches Clarke fuck herself. The noises spilling from Clarke’s pink lips are growing higher and sweeter. Her smooth stomach is starting to flex, and her full thighs have become bands of tension. Her heels dig into the bed with every thrust and she grinds the heel of her hand against her clit as she pushes in.

Lexa is entranced. She almost feels as if she could come right along with Clarke, without any contact between them at all. But no. That would be humiliating. She can’t give in that easily.

“Do you want to see me come?” Clarke gasps, still staring deeply into her eyes. Her breasts bounce as she rocks onto her own fingers. “Do you want to watch, even if it means you don’t get to help?”

Lexa’s mouth opens, but she isn’t even sure what answer to give. She wants to see Clarke come. She aches with the very thought. But she is also envious. Bringing Clarke release is her job. Her  _ right _ . To have it taken away is unthinkable. And yet…

“Yes,” she says, trying and failing not to whimper.

Clarke smirks. “Yes what, Lexa?”

Lexa looks away. She knows this game far too well. She knows what Clarke is waiting for, and it galls her to say it—but it seems that Clarke truly has found her weakness, because she is already considering surrender. She would do anything,  _ will _ do anything, just to see, to hear, to feel Clarke come.

“Yes… please.”

The last word is a whisper. Had their positions been switched, Lexa would have forced Clarke to repeat it louder. But Clarke is less picky than she is, or she knows she has already won an incredible victory, because she accepts the addition gracefully. She stops touching herself and shifts back onto her knees, straddling Lexa’s hips.

For a moment, Lexa hopes that Clarke will sink onto her, but she is disappointed. Clarke continues upward, kneeling closer to her shoulders instead. With her limbs bound, Lexa has no hope of reaching her, even if she lifts her head, but it does give her a close-up view of Clarke’s hand. It begins moving again, and Lexa watches Clarke’s fingers pump in and out, in and out.

“I’m close, Lexa,” Clarke murmurs, gazing down at her with glassy blue eyes. “So close. I wish these were your fingers…”

Lexa groans. She wishes they were her fingers, too, but she can tell from the twitching of Clarke’s thighs and the small shivers racing up and down her stomach that she’s far too close for that. Clarke is going to come all over her, inches away from her face. Despite the uncomfortable angle, she cranes her neck to watch. She can’t help herself.

She can’t decide whether to watch Clarke’s hand rubbing furiously over the stiff bud of her clit, or whether to stare at her lover’s fingers as they push into her over and over again. Clarke is literally dripping, her wetness making filthy sounds every time she thrusts inside of herself, and Lexa longs to reach up and pull Clarke’s hips down so that she can taste her. Clarke is headier and more addictive than any wine, and Lexa aches all over to run her tongue through the Sky girl’s folds, gathering up as much as she can. But the ropes hold her fast, and Clarke’s open-mouthed stare momentarily becomes a grin. It’s clear that she knows exactly how torturous this is for Lexa. 

“I’m going to come,” Clarke gasps, redoubling her efforts. “Don’t you dare look away.”

She can see the exact moment Clarke’s release takes hold. She stiffens, shivers, jerks her hips against her vigorously pumping hand, and then throws her head back, moaning long and loud. Lexa wants to squeeze her own eyes shut, to spare herself the torment of seeing her lover achieve pleasure that she has not brought her, but she can't. Clarke told her no, and even if she hadn't, she’s too weak to deny herself the sight of Clarke’s peak.

And what a sight it is. She can see Clarke’s entrance stretched and pulsing around her knuckles, can see her clit throbbing beneath the blur of her fingers. And she can just barely taste the droplets of clear fluid that pour out of Clarke as she wails in ecstasy, the perfect mix of salt and sweet. Lexa can’t help herself. She moans too, reaching out her tongue for all she can get. But of course Clarke notices.

“Greedy, huh?” she says, smirking down at Lexa as her movements slow. “Well, I hoped you enjoyed that, because that's all you're gonna get for a good long time.” 

Lexa’s cheeks burn and she has to clamp her mouth shut over a whine. As hard as it was to watch Clarke taking her pleasure without being allowed to help, she’s not yet ready to admit defeat.

Clarke takes her time cleaning herself off her fingers, eyes locked with Lexa’s. She’s clearly aware of just how badly Lexa burns to taste her, but she licks every drop of her own release off her fingers and leans back with a sigh. 

“Fuck, that felt good,” she says. “Didn’t it, Lexa? Oh, that’s right… You wouldn't know. And why is that?” 

Lexa keeps her mouth shut, still not trusting herself to speak. Clarke’s eyes narrow and her look grows dark, dangerous, positively predatory. “I asked you a question, Lexa. Who made me come?” 

There’s an edge to Clarke’s tone that suggests there will be consequences if she doesn't answer. Lexa growls, recognizing her own tricks, but in the end she’s not willing to risk it. If Clarke teases her for much longer, she’s fairly certain she’ll combust.

“You did,” she grits out.

“That’s right.” Clarke reaches down to pat her cheek. “There, was that so hard?” 

Lexa has the sudden urge to lean into Clarke’s hand, so desperate is she for Clarke’s touch, but she’s saved from that particular embarrassment when Clarke clambers off her. 

“No, it wasn’t,” Clarke says, still a little breathless as she answers her own question, “but I do know what is.” She settles herself on the bed beside Lexa, looking entirely too pleased with herself, before turning her gaze to Lexa’s poor, neglected length.

“Wow, Lexa,” she says, eyeing her with such heat that Lexa could swear she can feel the touch of her gaze physically. “I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you this hard...usually because you’re inside me when you’re this close.”

Lexa can’t help straining to get a better look at what Clarke’s doing, but then her lover murmurs, “I bet if I just…” and blows a stream of cool air across her twitching head. Lexa is suddenly trying desperately to avoid coming from Clarke merely  _ blowing on her.  _ She slumps back against the pillows, eyes screwed shut as she fights to keep herself from exploding. She succeeds, but she fears her victory is only temporary.

“Did watching me come really make you this hard?” Clarke asks, tracing a fingertip down in a teasing line. It follows a throbbing vein and Lexa gasps as more wetness pearls at her tip. She doesn’t speak. Clarke already knows the answer to that question.

Clarke’s finger continues running up and down, a feather-light touch that makes every muscle in Lexa’s body clench. She can barely breathe. Clarke’s lips are an inch away from her. She can feel the heat of Clarke’s soft breaths. Clarke’s eyes are boring into her, and Lexa knows she’s waiting… perhaps for a plea, or maybe just for Lexa’s control to snap.

The worst part is, Lexa knows one or the other will happen. Her lungs are burning. Her limbs are twitching in her bonds. She is leaking everywhere. She cannot hold out like this for much longer.

“Is this how you feel?” Clarke asks, leaning even closer. Lexa wants to shut her eyes, but can’t bear to do so—because then she would miss the sight of Clarke’s lips moving millimeters away. “When you’ve got me tied up and at your mercy? When you make me beg to come for you?”

“Yes,” Lexa rasps, hoping Clarke will take pity on her. She has withstood torture easier than this.

“I think I like it.”

Finally, Clarke wraps her fingers around Lexa, giving her the lightest possible squeeze. Her lips part, taking in the very tip for just a moment, and a lance of heat shoots straight to Lexa’s core. A few clear spurts run free before Lexa manages to get herself under control.

“… not quite as much as letting you fuck me into the mattress, but…”

Instead of pumping in a regular rhythm, Clarke holds her fist still. She brushes her thumb beneath the puffy head, painting a small line beneath it, smearing the fresh wetness around.

That little bit of pressure is too much for Lexa to bear. Her entire body goes rigid, and though she does her best to claw her way back from the brink, it’s far too late to avoid falling. She shouts loud and long as the fullness inside her bursts free, shooting all over her stomach in sticky strands. Clarke’s thumb sends a few spurts wild, but Lexa hardly notices where they fall. Her eyes are locked onto Clarke’s face and the look of breathless exhilaration there.

As she continues coming, Clarke finally starts stroking. She jerks Lexa from base to tip, squeezing on the way, as if to coax every drop out of her. “I see why you love making me come so much,” she says, but there is a delay before Lexa can make sense of her words. There is already a roar loud as an ocean in her ears. “It’s beautiful.”

Lexa doesn’t feel beautiful. She feels a mess. But she also feels utter bliss with each pass of Clarke’s fist. She lets the rest of her orgasm splash against her stomach, some of it pooling in the middle, other streams spilling down her sides. It isn’t what she wants—to come inside of Clarke as Clarke’s inner walls are clasping greedily around her—but she’ll take it. At this point, she’s desperate enough to take anything.

At last, she has nothing left but a few weak twitches. Clarke lets her go as she softens, falling limp against her stomach. Lexa finally allows herself to close her eyes. She is utterly exhausted, but wholly unsatisfied. She has watched Clarke come, but was not allowed to help. She has come, but without the satisfaction of bringing her lover with her. Her pleasure, great as it was, feels pointless.

“Lexa?”

Clarke climbs on top of her, and Lexa feels more happiness the moment Clarke’s warm body stretches over hers than she did at the height of her peak. With Clarke’s soft thighs wrapped around her hips and Clarke’s full breasts pressed snugly against hers, she finally feels like she can breathe. She lifts her arms, ready to wrap them around Clarke’s torso, but—oh. She’d forgotten. She’s still tied to the headboard.

“Untie me, Clarke,” she murmurs, smiling with love. Surely she’s suffered enough for one night. Clarke will end this little game and free her so Lexa can roll on top of her and bring them both to a shared orgasm at last. She stirs at the thought, starting to swell again. The thought of feeling Clarke come around her is sufficient motivation.

Clarke presses a kiss to her lips, soft and sweet, her golden hair falling down around them in a curtain. “No.”

***

Clarke is surprised by just how much she’s loving this. 

She adores the way every muscle in Lexa’s body strains toward her teasing touches. She treasures the moans and growls and whimpers, the breathy whispers and the desperate pleading that she’s managed to coax out of her normally taciturn lover. She’s entranced by the burning, desirous looks and yearning glances that Lexa is giving her. She’s delighted by just how long she was able to keep Lexa teetering on the edge of losing her typically iron-clad control, and just how little it took to make her fall over. She’s elated by the feeling of Lexa coming apart in her hand, her entire body shivering in the grip of pleasure that only Clarke can give her. 

The power she has over Lexa is so heady it’s almost frightening. But she’s also aware that it’s power she’s stolen from her lover, not power that Lexa has surrendered willingly. She has consented, of course, but she hasn’t given in. Underneath the haze of desperation and surprise Clarke sees when she leans back from kissing Lexa, there’s still a glint of defiance. After everything Clarke’s done tonight, some part of Lexa is still convinced that she’s in control.

_ Well,  _ that’s  _ not gonna fly.  _

But she still has needs, and she sees no reason why she shouldn’t allow herself to meet them—after all, as little as Lexa might like it, she’s running this show. So when Lexa says, “No? Why not?” Clarke just smirks at her. 

“Because you still haven’t realized that you’re not the one in charge.”

Lexa groans in what Clarke suspects is half frustration and half desire. She watches as Lexa tugs futilely against her bonds once more, and a shudder runs through her at the thought of what all that strength will do to her once it’s unleashed...but as wet as the idea makes her, she’s not quite there yet. She hasn’t fully exacted her revenge. 

Lexa’s voice tapers off into a sharp whine as Clarke slides further down her body, letting the dripping heat between her legs brush against the shaft slowly softening against Lexa’s belly. She can feel Lexa thickening again, and Clarke’s inner muscles ache to take her inside, to feel her lover splitting her open and stretching her to her limit, but she knows she can’t give into her own desires so easily. 

_ Fuck, I don’t know how she does it every night,  _ Clarke thinks, biting her lip as she begins a slow, steady grind—although given how little contact she allows between them, it could barely be called that. She only lets herself skim, barely painting Lexa with the wetness seeping from her. Lexa strains upward, trying to bring them closer together, but the ropes hold her firmly to the bed. 

Clarke tries to keep her focus solely on the sounds coming from Lexa’s mouth, harsh panting with a pleading edge that gradually turns into gasps, but she’s not entirely successful. The motion of her hips grows erratic as her own pleasure stirs in her gut once more, and her throbbing clit bumps up against the head of Lexa’s cock. Only a superhuman effort prevents the whine that bubbles up in her throat from escaping. 

_ I’m not gonna be able to hold out much longer,  _ she realizes, and she refuses to let Lexa see her resolve break. So, after one more particularly torturous slide, she reaches down to take hold of Lexa and fixes her with a burning look. 

“Hold still,” she says, her only command before she positions Lexa at her entrance and sinks down.

The choked groan Lexa releases is almost as pleasurable as the sudden stretch Clarke feels between her legs. As she accepts Lexa within her, she squeezes down on purpose, hoping for even more delicious noises. She earns a whimper, higher-pitched than most of Lexa’s usual cries, as well as a heavy throb from within her. Despite coming once already, Lexa seems more than recovered.

Clarke waits, using all the restraint she possesses, to see whether or not Lexa will try to move. To her delight (and mild disappointment), Lexa’s hips don’t push up into hers. She remains flat against the mattress, trembling, breathing hard behind her gritted teeth. Clarke places one hand in the middle of Lexa’s chest, between her breasts and above her rapidly beating heart. It’s a silent reminder that, for now, she is still in control, and Lexa cannot keep pretending otherwise.

“Lie back,” she murmurs, her tone smug since Lexa has no choice but to do just that. “Just enjoy this,  _ Heda _ .” She rises up one inch, then two, before sliding back down, taking Lexa to the hilt once more.

The shallow motion is enough to make Lexa’s stomach clench. Clarke can see the muscles there working, but instead of tightening and releasing so that Lexa can thrust, they remain tense. Clarke can see the outline of every muscle beneath her lover’s tanned skin, and the sight makes her clit pulse. She can’t lean forward enough to rub against them, but she does have a free hand. She slides her fingertips teasingly down her own stomach, peeling back the hood of her clit so Lexa can see.

_ “Clarke…” _

The pleading hiss with which Lexa speaks her name lets Clarke know that she has done something right. Most of all, Lexa loves to give pleasure, and once more, Clarke is denying her the opportunity.

_ This is supposed to be a punishment, _ she reminds herself when she is tempted to unfasten one of Lexa’s wrists and let her help.  _ She kept you on tenterhooks for two weeks. You’re only making her wait a few more minutes. _ But still, denying Lexa is denying herself. Honestly, she isn’t sure how Lexa managed to hold out for so long.

Clarke tries to take her mind off the callused fingers that could be touching her by rubbing faster over her clit. She touches herself as Lexa would, with swift, purposeful circles that avoid the very tip. Lexa groans, drawing her lip between her teeth. Her neck is craned as far as it will go to watch the show, and Clarke decides to give her more to look at. She raises her hips again, several inches this time, before thrusting back down.

Lexa’s pupils grow even larger, almost swallowing her green irises. Her fingers flex constantly and her heels dig restlessly into the mattress. Even so, she does not move her hips. They quiver, barely restrained, and Clarke nearly drools thinking of all the power they contain despite Lexa’s slender figure.

She decides to see how much it will take to break Lexa’s will. She starts a steady rhythm, sliding up and down, up and down, never quite lifting off, but coming close each time she rises. Lexa flinches with each fall. She is knots upon knots of tension, and Clarke almost feels sorry for her… almost. Perhaps she would, if she couldn’t feel Lexa throbbing within her.

“Do you want to feel me come around you?” Clarke asks her, making sure to stare straight into Lexa’s eyes.

Lexa’s lashes flutter, as if she’s trying to clear the haze from her vision. “Yes.”

Clarke pauses, holding Lexa deep within her for a moment, milking with her inner muscles.

“Do you want me to let you go, so you can thrust into me and make me come?”

Lexa’s eyes roll all the way back in her head.  _ “Yes.” _

“And what would you do if I didn’t let you?”

Lexa’s only answer is an agonized groan. Her breaths become fast and ragged and a rivulet of sweat runs down from her temple into her wild hair.

“Well…” Clarke sinks down just one more time, relishing the feeling of fullness inside her before lifting up—all the way up, leaving Lexa to feel nothing but cool air. “Let’s find out.”

She’s so wound up that she barely even has to press her fingers down on the point of her clit before she’s coming. Her inner muscles flutter wildly around nothing, and she keens with regret at the thought of how Lexa would have felt filling her up, throbbing inside of her with her own release—but Lexa can’t know that. All Lexa will see is Clarke kneeling above her, crying out as she takes the pleasure she’s been denying Lexa all night. 

The orgasm is so powerful that she sees white sunbursts behind her eyes even as she squeezes them shut, and she gasps and shudders with the intensity of it: the denial, both of Lexa and herself; the inversion of their usual dynamic; just how hot it is to see Lexa tied up on the bed, entirely at her mercy, unable to do anything but beg and plead… And, Clarke thinks as she slowly comes back to herself, fingers still rubbing furiously over her clit, the way Lexa’s looking at her now. 

It’s a strange mixture of desperation and fury, almost like pleading rage, and it makes Clarke  _ burn.  _ Lexa is staring up at her like a starving wolf, and Clarke is the only thing in the world that could sate her. She shivers again just at the intensity of Lexa’s gaze, and feels herself release another weak pulse of wetness against Lexa’s stomach. 

All of a sudden, she can’t stand it anymore. She needs to have Lexa in her, filling her, bringing her to completion, bringing them both the release they’ve both been craving all night. She bites her lip against a whine as she tries to figure out just how she can get what she needs without undoing everything she’s accomplished tonight, but a moment later she realizes that that’s the point. Tonight has been about taking her revenge, but it’s also been about taking what she wants. And what she wants right now is nothing more than for Lexa to fuck her so hard the bed breaks. 

“I think you’ve learned your lesson,” she says, drawing out the words as long as she can to enjoy how they make hope war with frustration in Lexa’s eyes. “There’s just one more thing I want you to do for me tonight.” 

“And what is that?” Lexa growls, her voice as rough and harsh as Clarke’s ever heard it. She feels herself clench as she makes her way to each corner of the bed, trying not to shake as she imagines the way Lexa’s gaze must be burning into her. But she forces herself to take her time, to slow her movements so she can watch Lexa struggle not to squirm for a few more seconds.

It’s just as much torture for her as it is for Lexa.  _ Just a little longer...just a bit longer and she’ll be in me.  _

To her credit, Lexa stays in place until Clarke unties the very last rope. She’s done her job better than she realized, Clarke thinks, as she turns to face Lexa and cocks a hip. Her lover’s gaze is searing, and every muscle in her body must be tensed, but she’s still waiting for Clarke’s command. 

“I want you to fuck me.”

With a guttural noise that Clarke might describe as a roar, Lexa pounces. She leaps up, seizes Clarke’s waist in an iron grip, and flings her down onto the bed. She looms over Clarke, eyes dark and wild and dangerous, and Clarke feels a delicious thrill shiver through her body. 

“As you wish,  _ Wanheda, _ ” Lexa pants harshly into her ear as she pushes Clarke’s thighs back to give herself a better angle. 

Then she drives in  _ hard,  _ taking Clarke in one long thrust that punches the air out of her lungs. But as soon as she has her breath back, she’s using it to scream. While ordinarily Lexa might have drawn this out a little longer, taking them both up to the edge and back again, Clarke knows that she’s destroyed the last vestiges of the Commander’s self-control—and her own. Lexa is using her body to bring herself to the completion that Clarke denied her, and the thought is making Clarke’s own need rise once more. As hot as she found Lexa when she was captive, literally and figuratively, to Clarke’s whims,  _ this— _ Lexa taking her, using her, rutting into her viciously—is what Clarke craves most. 

They’re both so on edge that it isn’t long before Clarke can feel herself teetering on the brink, and she can tell by the way Lexa is twitching and throbbing inside of her that her lover’s there with her. Lexa’s iron grip on her thighs, the steely glint in her eyes, the harsh sounds dragging out from behind her lips, have all combined to drive Clarke out of her mind with desire. She just needs one more thing. 

“Lexa,” she gasps out, digging her nails into her lover’s back and glorying in the feel of the muscles shifting under her hands. “I want you to come!”

Lexa lets out a hoarse cry and stiffens above her, shaking. A moment later, Clarke feels Lexa’s plunging hips freeze between her thighs. It’s too much for both of them. As the first flood of warmth spills from Lexa, Clarke’s inner muscles flutter wildly. She wants everything her lover has to give—every drop of Lexa’s release, every pulse of her pleasure.

She captures Lexa’s lips in a greedy kiss, something she has denied herself for most of the evening, and Lexa pumps even harder inside of her, emptying in short, harsh bursts. Her thrusts are shallow, as if she can’t bear to pull out even a little, but they trap Clarke’s clit firmly against Lexa’s lower belly. The pressure within her spikes, and she hurtles toward the stars again, sailing higher than before.

This time, she doesn’t close her eyes. She stares deep into Lexa’s as the rippling waves of pleasure break over their bodies. The primal hunger is still there, but there is something soft as well, a sort of tender relief. Clarke feels it too—the sense that they are supposed to be joined like this, with Lexa buried deep within her, so deep they can’t be parted.

Even though Clarke knows their release has probably only lasted a few seconds, it feels like much longer. Still, she soaks in every moment, savoring the way her aftershocks pull a few more weak spurts of come from Lexa’s shaft. When neither of them have any more to give, they melt into each other, and Clarke sighs in gratitude as Lexa finally lowers her thighs. She tangles her legs loosely with Lexa’s.

“Clarke,” Lexa says again. This time, her voice is soft and breathy, the opposite of her strangled roar from earlier. She plants another kiss on Clarke’s open mouth, gently this time, and Clarke returns it by swiping her tongue along the seam of Lexa’s lips. She is rewarded by a low groan and a short, involuntary jerk of Lexa’s hips.

“I didn’t go too far, did I?” Clarke asks, running her hands along Lexa’s back. It’s covered in a fine coat of sweat, but their bodies are already starting to cool, even while sharing heat.

Lexa smiles, nuzzling into Clarke’s shoulder. “No,  _ niron. _ Not at all. Although if you were trying to punish me for denying you, I’m not sure you succeeded.”

“It wasn’t a punishment.” Clarke brushes a strand of Lexa’s wavy hair away from her face, stroking it back into place. “Just a little good-natured revenge. When it comes to sex, I prefer playing dirty.”

“Hmm…” Lexa begins nibbling along her neck, and though Clarke had thought she couldn’t possibly endure any more stimulation, a shiver races down her spine. “Perhaps both of us would benefit from a bath, then.”

Clarke sighs. Warm water? Steam? Lexa’s hands? She can get behind that idea. There’s only one problem.

“But that means you have to pull out.”

Lexa makes a low rumble of discontentment. She places both hands on Clarke’s hips and thrusts once more, gently, but enough to make them both gasp.

“Once more,” she mutters beneath Clarke’s jaw. “Then a bath.”

Clarke wraps her legs around Lexa’s hips and kisses her. That sounds like a perfect way to end the evening.

**Author's Note:**

> Trigedasleng:
> 
> Ai hodnes: My love  
> *Niladon: One who kneels  
> Ai niron: My dear  
> *Gapa: cunt


End file.
